


American Boy

by convenience



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, Young Love, casual groping, hot american michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenience/pseuds/convenience
Summary: Michael comes back from America, and he's changed for the better - or atleast Bonnie thinks so.





	American Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkandstormyslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/gifts).



> I really enjoyed writing this one, it was really out of my comfort zone! please enjoy!

“Ey, Bon. You looking for someone?” A soft voice drawls, Michael practically dancing his way over to Bonnie. He carries an air of chivalry, as if he’s a gentleman - Bonnie knows he is not. It’s to Bonnie’s delight that he hasn’t got one of those stupid fucking flat caps on, and is instead letting the light of the docks illuminate his features as if he were a saint. He’s lost the resemblance he had to Tommy, and Bonnie might get back to his old ways if he’s not extremely careful.

“I am, don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” Bonnie asked, keeping up the act until they both laughed.

“You’ve not changed a bit then, huh?” Michael laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him. “Are you driving or am I?”

“I am,” Bonnie was not letting Michael drive his car - it was new, and Michael had possibly the world’s worst reputation for driving. He’d never learnt, and it was a little late now. 

“I’ve got a driving licence now, you know. Did more than business in America, you know.” Michael winks, and the suggestion is not lost on Bonnie. 

“I’m sure you did, fucking hell. Pass yourself round like a reefer at a party much?” He teased, walking with him to the car, Michael’s hand now resting on his shoulder, fingertips brushing the arm of his coat.

“Jealous, much?” He winked, getting into the car. Michael loved frustrating Bonnie because of the pretty colour he went, but now Bonnie was getting into the car and the colour was fading.

“What would I be jealous of, may I ask? Not only do I fuck more than you, but I’m better at it.” Bonnie told him, driving towards Polly’s house.

“Are you sure of that?” Michael teased, turning to Bonnie “I call absolute bullshit.”  
“That’s because I don’t have a reputation of a ha’penny whore.” He laughed, focusing on the road ahead. “Standards, you should learn what they are. Or has America taught you those as well, Michael?”

“America has taught me a lot..” Michael hummed, hand now on Bonnie’s seat, fingers brushing his thigh. “But if you don’t want to know then it’s fine. How’s everything?”

“The same.” Bonnie muttered, unable to breathe in between the lingering touches on his thigh and focusing on the road. “The same.” He knows how obvious he’s being, and he knows that it’s exactly the wrong way to play it with Michael, but god his heart is in his throat and he might actually die in that car right there.

“Really? Because I’ve been told otherwise.” Michael asked, hand now fully on Bonnie’s thigh. He has no idea what he’s doing but he knows that he wants Bonnie. He knows that they’re nearing his house, that people watch even in the dead of night, and there will be talk. He also knows that he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Have you? Who by?” Bonnie replied, pulling into the little suburbian close, driving slowly as to buy them more time. He knows, inevitably, that the car ride will end and the hand will leave his thigh - he can dream for now.

“You, Bonnibel.” Michael whispered, then felt the car slow down into stillness. “Thanks for the lift, I’ll pay you back.” He winked at him and then got out, disappearing down the drive and into the stately house. The lights were still on in the living room, and Bonnie knew that Polly had stayed up to see him. Mothers, he thought, always ruining my opportunities.

The next time that Bonnie saw Michael, he didn’t spot him first. Bonnie was at the bar, chatting away to bar staff as he sipped his whiskey. Then that summer sweet voice called out to him, a little less sober than before but not completely clattered.

“Bonnibel Gold himself!” Michael called, making Isaiah laugh from the chair next to Michael’s. 

Bonnie spins instantly, only in slacks and a shirt. He’s just come from the ring, training until he had to shower due to the sheen of sweat on his skin. “Drunk already, Michael?” He teases, walking over with his glass.

“Just drinking away the boredom until you came along, Bon. Had to deal with Isaiah all night as replacement, how’s that fair, eh?” Michael grinned, patting the seat he was on. “You got a drink? Everyone’s either gone or in the back room.”

Bonnie nodded, sitting next to him, his thigh brushing Michael’s as he shifted in his seat. “What’s got you so pleasant, huh?”

“Glad to be back, ‘s all.” Michael grinned, resting his arm on the back of his chair. “Been training?”

“Yeah, only some light sparring. Nasty bruise on my rib, but that’s all. Need to get a better sparring partner, honestly. Yourself? Just been wasting away without me, have you?” Bonnie teased, turning to him on the seat barely big enough for the both of them.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, Bon.” Michael hummed, downing his drink and then looking across at Isaiah, who was making his leave. “You off?”

“Yeah, don’t wanna get caught in this… whatever this is.” Isaiah chuckled, running a hand through his hair “Make sure he gets home safe, Bon.”

“Will do, ‘Saiah.” Bonnie nodded, one leg now across Michael’s in the booth seat. It seemed he was slowly migrating onto Michael’s lap, and Michael’s hands were encouraging it.

“Are you my keeper now, Bonnie? Gonna drop me off so my mom can ask me what time I call it?” Michael laughed, hiding his face in the crook of Bonnie’s neck. “Or should I drop you off at your dad’s?”

“How about we just go to my apartment?” He offered as compromise, shifting to sit comfortably on Michael’s lap.

“Yeah, you drive. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a tiny bit drunk, and you care about your car so much.” Michael explained, a hand now wrapped around Bonnie to keep him from falling off.

“Just because I don’t have money to piss away, Mike.” Bonnie rolled his eyes, relaxing into his touch “Should we be getting off?” 

“Yeah, definitely.” Michael nodded, then hummed “Did you mean leaving..?”

“Yes, you horny bastard. Come on,” He laughed, getting up off of his lap and standing up, finishing his drink.

“What could you possibly be insinuating?” Michael laughed, practically dragging Bonnie to the car, straightening as he walked through the pub and the streets. He still held Bonnie’s hand, though.

Bonnie shook his head in disbelief as he got in the car, turning the key in the ignition. As he began to drive through the shit heap that they called Small Heath, Michael’s hand rests on his thigh, just gently gripping it. Bonnie felt like he was floating. Then, the hand crept further up, and Bonnie felt his heart leap up into his throat, other things flying in the same direction.

“You alright there Bon?” Michael asked with a smirk, his fingers creeping even further up Bonnie’s thigh. 

“You’re a menace, Michael.” Bonnie gritted out, biting his lip and doing his best to drive towards his apartment.  
“Oh, you love it.” Michael decided, and had his confirmation when the apartment door closed behind them, because he was pinned to it.

Bonnie was kissing the living daylights out of Michael, fingers interlaced. He was pretty sure he’d never felt that good, but he’d been proven wrong before. The way his heart was jumping, though, he was sure nothing could be better than this.

They managed to stumble their way through the apartment, just hitting his bedroom before all articles of clothing came off. Bonnie was halfway through stripping off his shirt when Michael let a low whistle from his lips, walking over again.

“Who’d’ve thought that you were hiding that? Bloody hell…” He hummed, grinning as Bonnie blushed all over - not for the last time that night.

When Bonnie opens his eyes later on, it’s to loud banging. “Bonnie, lad! Training!” His father calls through the front door, and he curses under his breath. Michael is in bed with him, and he isn’t fond of the idea of leaving him - Michael’s cologne still smells a little, and he doesn’t look so grumpy when he’s asleep and his hair isn’t so polished on his head but soft and everywhere.

“Michael. My dad’s here.” Bonnie whispers urgently, gently pinching his arm. “Get up!” He whispers again, jolting out of bed and getting out of bed. “Coming, Dad!” 

The yelling wakes Michael up, and he’s greeted by the sight of Bonnie getting dressed. Bonnie is in a flurry of speed and urgency, though, and Michael only realises why when he hears the door unlocking. 

“Fuck.” Michael curses, joining in the hurry to get dressed, panicking even more as the steps increase. They get louder, louder, louder, and Michael jumps into Bonnie’s closet right in the nick of time.

Bonnie manages to get out of the apartment with his dad without him coming into the bedroom, which is a mean feat. He’s distracted all practice and gets a busted nose, delaying his return home.

When he finally does barrel through his home, though, he sees a note on his bed that makes him laugh in disbelief. 

Turning it over in his hands, he studies it as if it’s evidence at a crime scene. Pencil block letters read ‘thursday, my office, six pm’, and Bonnie’s heart leaps again. Oh, he sees an issue beginning to form, because he is already fretting about what to wear like a girl on her first date. It could be anything, really, but Bonnie knows that it’s not. Michael is not the same drunk as he is anywhere, and Bonnie just wants to know that he looks just as good when Michael’s sober as he does when Michael’s drunk.


End file.
